


If More People Valued Home Above Gold

by tasty0kitsune0brains



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Fix-It, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Minor Swearing, One Shot, Poorly Written Fight Scene, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Thorin Oakenshield Lives, Wakes & Funerals, azog shall not pass, character tagging is hard, fili and kili are still dead though sorry, god i need sleep, how do i tell which characters play a big enough role to tag?, i use the word swing a lot, like one word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29676705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasty0kitsune0brains/pseuds/tasty0kitsune0brains
Summary: Thorin's fight with Azog ends quite differently. Maybe he would have preferred death over the grief of his nephews' deaths, but a simple hobbit with experiences in grief gives the dwarves some good advice that may help them through it.OrIn which Thorin lives because he has a braincell, and Bilbo knows more about healthy grieving than all of the dwarves combined.((Title is somewhat tentative. I'm open to suggestions if you have any.))
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins & Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	If More People Valued Home Above Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: Oh My Lemon Almighty, Why Did You Do That?!
> 
> If many years of Supernatural have taught me anything, it's that you never turn your back on the body. He turned his back.

Fíli and Kíli were no doubt dead. Thorin was sure of this as Azog approached. That was his twisted promise, after all. Thorin was to be last. But he had no intention of dying today. Not when Azog had the deaths of his family and countless others to answer for. Thorin had been waiting for the orc’s day of reckoning for a long time, and now it had sealed its fate.

Azog bore a determined, malicious grin as he paused on the ice. Thorin scowled and gripped Orcrist tighter. They stared each other down for a brief moment before Azog leapt to action, swinging his crude flail at Thorin. Without missing a beat, Thorin ducked, evading the first of many swings. He knew a single hit from the giant stone could incapacitate him, if not kill him. Despite his dwindling endurance, he patiently continued their dance of cat and mouse, avoiding each of Azog’s swings as he looked for openings to strike. The last time he had rushed in with blind rage, he’d almost died. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Azog, on the other hand, seemed to be fighting with nothing but rage and hatred, in typical orc fashion. His attacks were erratic, reckless, and careless.

Every few swings, Azog would use too much force and offset his balance as the stone circled around his back, bringing his arm with it. These careless moments gave Thorin a perfect opportunity to strike before jumping back as Azog stabilized himself again. Each time Azog swung the stone down, prompting a sidestep from Thorin, the ice cracked dangerously. As Thorin kept analyzing the situation and their battlefield, a picture started forming in his mind. He could see where this was going, and he hoped to work it in his favor somehow.

Eventually, as Thorin expected, the ice broke in a rough circle around them. As if the ice hadn’t made it difficult enough to maintain steady footing, now it was swaying with the water beneath them. Azog paid it no mind, and seemed hardly to notice. He kept swinging as he did before, so Thorin kept dodging as he did before. It didn’t take long, though, for Thorin to fall victim to the change in battlefield.

After dodging one of the flail’s swipes, Thorin fumbled with his balance. Without a chance to steady himself, his foot slipped off the edge of the ice and plunged into the water, knocking him down. By the time he managed to stand back up, Azog had swung again, sweeping the dwarf’s feet out from under him. Azog took the opportunity, instantly swinging his flail down toward Thorin’s head. Thorin quickly rolled out of the way just in time, but he was unable to get up before the next few swings. Finally, he managed to get to his feet after yet another roll, rushing forward and slashing Azog’s abdomen. The Pale Orc growled before swinging his flail toward Thorin with a scream of rage as he turned to face him. Thorin simply stepped back as the stone sank into the ice at his feet.

Azog tried to pull the stone back to swing again, but it was stuck in the ice. He instead attacked with his sword prosthetic, but the swipe was easily evaded. As the movement upset the balance of the floating ice, they both took a moment to adjust their footing. Once stabilized, Azog snarled and looked back up to Thorin, but his growl suddenly died in his throat as he looked beyond the dwarf. Thorin was confused, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the orc. After a moment, he saw a flock of eagles fly overhead. Azog turned to watch as the birds flew away, toward the army in the distance behind them. Thorin knew that was the moment he had been waiting for.

Taking advantage of Azog’s momentary distraction, Thorin dropped Orcrist and rushed to the stone. Azog turned at the clang of Thorin’s sword hitting the ice, but before he could react, Thorin heaved up the stone and tossed it into the orc’s arms. A brief moment passed as Azog stared at Thorin in uncertain confusion before Thorin stepped back, off the floating chunk of ice. Suddenly misbalanced, the ice pitched, sending Azog sliding helplessly into the water below as he futilely attempted to claw his way back up.

A long silence followed as the ice leveled itself out on the water. Azog… was gone. Thorin took a moment to catch his breath. He could hardly believe it. Closing his eyes, he dropped to his knees on the ice and threw his head back. A relieved sigh passed his lips as he felt some of the weight slowly dissipate from his shoulders. Azog was gone.

Taking a deep breath, Thorin turned and grabbed his sword. Just as he felt the comforting familiar weight of Orcrist in his hand, movement below the ice made him freeze. Slowly rising back to his feet, he stared transfixed as Azog’s seemingly lifeless body floated past underneath the ice. All the weight that had left his shoulders came hurtling back in that moment, bringing with it a heavier friend that settled in his chest.

Azog’s eyes were open, his lips parted slightly, face blank. If he wasn’t an orc, he would almost look peaceful. Thorin followed as the orc floated away, watched as his eyes slowly closed. He didn’t trust this. How long could orcs hold their breath? Did they even need to breathe? Drowning wasn’t a reliable enough confirmation of death. There were too many variables. Thorin couldn’t very well leave and expect Azog to be gone forever. Azog had escaped death for so long, had been so hard to kill for so long. If he wasn’t actually dead, he would live to fight another day and kill so many more people. Thorin would never be able to live with that possibility.

A thought entered his mind, a potential future if Azog was alive. The orc would burst through the ice and catch him by surprise. Thorin would lose his footing on the ice and fall on his back, and Azog would tower over him. He may be able to counter a few strikes, but it would be a futile battle of strength. As much as he hated to admit it, Azog would easily beat him in a battle of strength, especially in that position. He would die.

Knowing time was limited, Thorin tried to think quickly. That last thought, the potential future, solidified in his mind what he had to do. If Azog really was dead, this would end up being foolish, but Thorin knew he needed to play it safe. He owed that much to Fíli and Kíli. Azog had to answer for the death and destruction he had caused, and Thorin had to make sure that he did.

With a deep breath, Thorin gripped Orcrist tight and swiftly plunged it through the ice and into the orc’s heart. Azog’s eyes flew open wide as he gasped in pain, and he choked on water as he bled out. Thorin’s heart lurched as his fears were confirmed. Jerking Orcrist out of the ice, he stabbed through again for good measure, watching the life drain from Azog’s eyes. Now he was gone.

Leaving Orcrist sticking out of the ice, Thorin sagged to the ground in shock. It was finally over. For real this time. He let out a ragged breath as he felt the weight on his shoulders and chest alleviating again. All of his adrenaline seemed to wear off all at once, and he suddenly felt very tired. Unsure of what to do next, he just sat on the ice, his back against Orcrist, for a while.

Thorin had no idea how long he was sitting there before he heard someone call out his name. Momentarily confused, he blinked and looked up and around to find whoever it was. He spotted Bilbo running toward him just as the hobbit called out, “Thorin! Are you alright?”

Stumbling to his feet, Thorin gave the best smile he could, which was rather weak, and called back, “Yes! Everything is fine.” He turned to pull Orcrist back out of the ice and watched as the current finally pulled away Azog’s body. By the time he turned back, Bilbo was already next to him.

“Was that… Azog?” Bilbo asked, cocking his head slightly. He was looking at the place on the ice under which Azog’s body could last be seen.

Thorin laughed and answered, “Yes. He got trapped under the ice, and I stabbed him through it to make sure he was dead. I’m glad I thought of it, because he wasn’t.”

“How did he get trapped under the ice?”

Thorin looked over to the floating ice circle on which he had fought with Azog. “See that section of ice floating on the water?” Bilbo nodded. “He was fighting with a large stone on a chain that he kept swinging around. That’s how that part separated from the rest of the ice. The stone got stuck in the ice after one of his swings, and while he was distracted by the eagles that flew overhead, I picked up the stone and threw it in his arms. When I stepped off the floating ice, it became unbalanced, and he fell in.”

Bilbo grinned up at Thorin. “You were thinking like a hobbit.”

Thorin looked offended, spluttering, “Wha- No, I was thinking like a dwarf. I’m a dwarf, not a hobbit. We can be smart too.”

Bilbo laughed and started walking back toward land, expecting Thorin to follow. “No, you can’t. I’ve seen the way you dwarves fight. Slash first, think later. Maybe you’ll try to make a plan before the fight, but you’re not as good with improvising and thinking on your feet as hobbits are. You just hit harder and hope that works.”

Thorin rushed to catch up with Bilbo, who was already a few good paces away. “We don’t always do that.”

Bilbo looked at him and raised an unimpressed brow. “Oh, really? How come I was the only one who could deal with the trolls? You all got captured and put in sacks or on spits for their dinner because you could only think to attack, whereas _I_ talked my way out of it. Or rather, I _almost_ did. You dwarves ruined even that. All you had to do was stay quiet.”

“That wasn’t me, though. I was quiet.”

Rolling his eyes, Bilbo said, “Maybe you were quiet at that part, but you were still in the ‘attack only’ crowd. Honestly.”

“Alright, but that was one time.”

With a laugh, Bilbo continued, “Are you forgetting the goblin tunnels? I wasn’t there, but I heard what happened. _I_ could have talked my way out of that. In fact, I did talk my way out of the predicament I was in below, and that was with a much more unreasonable creature than the goblins. Not to mention, again, I wasn’t even captured.”

Unsure of how to keep pleading his case but not wanting to admit Bilbo was right, Thorin lamely responded, “Well, like you said, you weren’t there, so you couldn’t possibly know.”

Bilbo smiled like he knew exactly what Thorin was thinking. “Alright, I’ll give you that one. There are more, though. You know, especially when I saved your life.”

Thorin was silent as he thought about that for a second. Then he smiled and said, “If trapping Azog under the ice was thinking like a hobbit, _that_ was thinking like a dwarf.”

Bilbo stopped walking and paused for a moment, considering. Then he nodded and smiled. “I suppose you’re right. And you just admitted that _I’m_ right too.”

“What, no I didn’t!” Thorin said indignantly, before considering. After a brief pause, he sighed. “I did.”

Bilbo grinned triumphantly and continued walking. They had already gotten off the ice and now began to look around for other people. The battle was winding down, and most of the orcs on Ravenhill were already dead. Aside from a few stray orcs they swiftly dispatched, everything was quiet as they made their way around the ruined tower. As they were ascending another flight of stairs, loud sobbing broke the silence. They rushed up the stairs just in time to see Thranduil disappear down the corridor and turned to the source of the sound.

As Bilbo and Thorin emerged into the open air, they saw Tauriel leaning over a body, crying. She held the body tight as she rocked back and forth, not taking notice of the hobbit and the dwarf who just arrived. Bilbo, being the more emotionally-conscious of the two, slowly approached the elf and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. She jolted in surprise and looked up into Bilbo’s soft, sympathetic gaze. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, unsure of her words, before she simply said, “He’s gone.” She sounded so utterly defeated and broken, her voice cracking on the last word.

With what he hoped was a comforting squeeze, Bilbo smiled and said, “It’s okay. We’ve all lost a lot of friends today. It’s alright to be sad, to allow yourself to grieve. I can’t say it gets any better or any easier, because it often doesn’t, but you can get through it. Losing a loved one is never easy, I know that better than most people may think, but they’re never truly gone. They’re always with you in spirit, and they live on through your heart and your memories.”

As Bilbo was talking to Tauriel, Thorin was able to catch a glimpse at the body now that the elf wasn’t hunched over it so much. He slowly walked closer to get a better glimpse and gasped, eyes widening. It was Kíli. Slowly, he sank to his knees in front of the elf, unable to take his eyes off his nephew’s face. He didn’t notice when Orcrist dropped from his hand, or when Bilbo looked up at the clatter of metal on stone. Both Tauriel and Bilbo stared at him for a moment before looking to the body in the elf’s arms. Tauriel let out another sob, and Bilbo gasped, hand covering his mouth.

Thorin knew Kíli must have been dead, but knowing it and seeing it were two completely different things. He couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. But it was real, and it was his fault. He knew it was a trap, but he still sent them to scout. He should have gone himself. He shouldn’t have--

A gentle hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Bilbo giving him the same expression he gave Tauriel but ten times worse. Thorin felt something wet on his face and realized he had been crying. Turning back to Kíli, Thorin cleared his throat and shrugged Bilbo’s hand off his shoulder. “I don’t need your pity,” he quietly said. It sounded pathetic even to his own ears, but he said nothing further.

Bilbo sighed and knelt down next to him. A silent tear rolled down his face as he looked at Kíli’s. Sniffing, he looked to Tauriel and asked, “Tauriel, right?” She nodded, and he gave her a weak smile as he quietly continued, “Would you mind letting him hold him? He just lost Fíli too.”

The elf looked between the two of them before silently nodding. She kept her eyes on Kíli’s face as she handed his body over to Thorin, who wordlessly took him into his arms. Tears falling freely, Thorin clutched Kíli close, one hand on the back of his head holding it against his shoulder as though he were comforting a crying child. Honestly, Thorin almost wished he could be held that way in that moment. Instead, he just squeezed his eyes shut and held Kíli tighter. Thorin was vaguely aware of Bilbo talking with Tauriel in hushed voices, but he paid them no mind and focused only on his nephew and his grief.

Thorin didn’t know how long he was sitting there, cradling his dead nephew, before he felt a hand on his shoulder again and heard Bilbo softly say, “Thorin… We can’t stay here forever. We have to bring him to the others. Give him a proper funeral.” A broken sob escaped Thorin without his consent, and he wordlessly pulled Kíli closer in response. Bilbo sighed and leaned over to pull Thorin and Kíli into a tight hug. “It’s alright, Thorin. It’s okay to be sad. You’re not alone in this.” Thorin sniffed and silently nodded, but otherwise didn’t do anything. With another sigh, this one more sad and exhausted than the last, Bilbo stood up and extended a hand down to Thorin. “Come on, let’s go. You can carry him to the others.”

With a shuddering sigh, Thorin nodded and adjusted Kíli in his arms so he could keep holding him as he took Bilbo’s offered hand and got to his feet. Sniffing, he took his hand back to support Kíli with both arms. Tauriel, who had been standing off to the side, walked up, placed a kiss on Kíli’s cheek, and nodded to Bilbo, who returned it, before sniffing and silently turning to leave. A silent pause followed for a moment before Bilbo started walking toward the stairs, Thorin following soon after.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the bottom of the tower, but when they did, it seemed all the fighting had finally stopped. An eerie calm had spread across Ravenhill and the battlefield below as they began their search for the others. They didn’t speak, but they didn’t need to.

Dwalin was the first one they found, and he said that most of the others were down on the battlefield together. Many of them were injured, but they were all still alive. Apparently the battle had been over for a little while, and Bilbo and Thorin were in the tower for longer than they thought. He didn’t mention Kíli, but his face betrayed his sorrow. Before they continued, Thorin mentioned Fíli and asked Dwalin if he wouldn’t mind going to find him. Dwalin wordlessly nodded and started walking back up to Ravenhill.

Thorin and Bilbo continued down to the battlefield to meet up with everyone else. They remained silent until they reached the edge of the battlefield and saw all the carnage and destruction up close. Thorin was used to it, had been in many battles before and seen this scene every time, but Bilbo had never experienced such a thing. He froze, eyes widening, face paling. He looked like he may throw up.

“Oh, my…” Bilbo whispered quietly. “I knew it would be bad, but… thinking it and seeing it are two completely different things. I could never have prepared myself for this.”

Thorin nodded and said, “The first time is always the worst. You learn to deal with it, to distance yourself from it the more you see it. I hope you never have to see this again.” With that, he continued walking, passing dozens of dead bodies with an unaffected expression on his face. Bilbo’s heart suddenly hurt, and he wondered just how many times Thorin had seen this before. He couldn’t imagine ever getting used to it.

Forcing himself to ignore the dead piled around him, Bilbo rushed to catch up with Thorin. It didn’t take them long to find the rest of the Company. Everyone’s faces lit up upon seeing them, excited and relieved that they were alright. When their eyes fell to Kíli in Thorin’s arms, their faces fell, a wave of grief and sorrow crashing over them. He could have just been unconscious for all they could see, but they were all too familiar with the casualties of war. They didn’t need to see the numb look of despair on Thorin and Bilbo’s faces to know that Kíli was gone. Many of them tried to remain stoic, appear strong, but whether they were sobbing or not, all of them had tears streaming down their faces. By the time Dwalin returned with Fíli in his arms, many of them had calmed a little, but upon seeing Fíli’s broken body, their tears returned tenfold.

A funeral was held the next day to honor all of the fallen. After the public service ended, the Company held a more private service in honor of Fíli and Kíli. Heavy silence filled the room for the first ten minutes as they all stewed in their grief and stared at nothing. A sniff, deafening in comparison to the previous quiet, was what finally broke the silent tension before Bilbo suddenly said, “I remember…” He pauses and gives a weak chuckle, looking at the ground and fiddling with his shirt. “I remember when they lost the horses to the trolls. They were so scared because they had no idea where the horses went and they didn’t want to get in trouble. Didn’t want to disappoint Thorin. They had planned to just try and find the horses on their own before anyone found out.” He let out a laugh. “I found out later they lost the horses because they were distracted scheming some of their typical mischief. They never told me exactly what, though. Chances are we would have really hated it in the moment and then laughed about it later.”

Everyone smiles a little, some nodding slightly. They each took turns sharing funny or cherished memories with the boys. How they used to sometimes practice talking at the same time and finishing each other’s sentences, and how they sometimes spoke in unison and finished the other’s sentences accidentally. How they loved making mischief, and how much of a handful they were when they were younger, especially when they were together. That time in Rivendell when Kíli mistook a male elf for a female and called him attractive. Every story they told made everyone laugh or smile fondly. The Rivendell story made everyone laugh the most.

They all felt a little better after exchanging stories and fond memories. Though none of them would ever admit it, they were all very grateful to Bilbo for breaking the tension. When the time came to say their final goodbyes, it was a little easier. Once the service ended, Bilbo stopped them before they could leave and said he wanted to say something.

“I know you’re all probably used to losing people, with how rough you’ve had it for so long, so I’m sorry if this comes off patronizing or self-righteous or egotistical. I don’t intend it that way.” Bilbo took a deep breath to stabilize himself, wringing his hands and avoiding eye contact. “I know… better than most people think that… losing a loved one is not easy. This isn’t my first untimely loss. I’ve had… experience with grieving and working through loss. The point is, I guess, it’s alright to be sad and allow yourself time to grieve. You don’t have to try to remain strong. I’ve seen that many of you aren’t very well-versed in emotions or expressing them, but we’re all experiencing the same loss. It should be okay to be vulnerable with each other and talk about this. Keeping the emotions locked away isn’t healthy, and it’s important to deal with them and work through them before they eventually destroy you. They can’t and won’t stay locked away forever. I’m not sure if it’s just a hobbit thing, but we typically grieve publically and together… Unless you don’t have anyone to grieve with.” Bilbo furrowed his brow and paused. Swallowing and clearing his throat, he looked up and finally made eye contact as he continued, “But we do have people to grieve with, and we should take advantage of that. We should lean on each other in these trying times.”

Bilbo stopped and looked back down for a moment. Everyone remained silent. With another deep breath and an awkward swing of his arms, Bilbo quietly added, “We all know it is not easy losing a loved one, and it doesn’t get easier or better in time. We learn to live with it and cope with it, but we never truly forget, never really get over it. They never really leave, either.” At this, Bilbo looked back up and met their gazes again. “They will always remain with us in spirit, live on through our hearts and our memories. Their lives and their love have left an unmistakable, unforgettable, and inescapable imprint on us that will remain until we pass ourselves. We must honor their lives, their love, and their impact on ours.”

The dwarves exchanged looks that Bilbo wasn’t sure what to make of, so he just said, “I apologize if I overstepped any boundaries or came across as pompous or patronizing, but I stand by what I said. Just the thoughts of a grieving and tired hobbit.” With that, he turned to leave and heard murmuring behind him, which he didn’t mind. He would leave them with his words and let them sort it out. He had to start preparing to head back to the Shire, anyway.

About ten minutes later, Thorin caught up with him. He was silent for a moment, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “They appreciate what you said. Even if they won’t admit it,” he said suddenly.

Bilbo looked up from his bag and raised an eyebrow. “ ‘They’? What about you?”

Thorin shifted awkwardly and looked at his boots, clearing his throat. This amused Bilbo more than he thought it should. “Yes, I… appreciate it too.” He glanced up, and Bilbo smiled at him. Returning the smile, Thorin said, “Maybe we’ll give your hobbit thing a chance. You haven’t disappointed yet.” This reminded Thorin of something, and his smile dropped immediately, as did his gaze. “I… I’d like to apologize for… what I did. Everything. Even before the dragon sickness, I was an ass. All of it was uncalled for. I know nothing I do or say can make up for what I’ve done, and the dragon sickness is not an excuse. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I tried to kill you, for Mahal’s sake.” Thorin gave an awkward, humorless, self-deprecating chuckle. He paused for a brief moment, brow furrowing. “But I am sorry. You did what any true friend would have done.” Not sure what else to say (What _could_ he possibly say to make up for what he did?) and too afraid to look up and see Bilbo’s reaction, Thorin just continued to stare at the ground.

Even when he heard a sigh, he didn’t look up. Until suddenly he heard the bag fall and felt arms around him the instant after. He jolted in surprise and looked at Bilbo, confused. Why was he hugging him? Was it normal for hobbits to hug people who once tried to kill them? And right after they mentioned the time they tried to kill them? Not sure what else to do, Thorin awkwardly and hesitantly raised his arms and returned the hug.

“It’s alright. I’ve forgiven you already,” Bilbo mumbled into Thorin’s shoulder. Thorin opened his mouth to say something, to object, to ask _why_ , but Bilbo seemed to sense what was coming and didn’t give him the chance. Lifting his head from Thorin’s shoulder to look him in the eye, Bilbo said, “I know what you’re going to say. Don’t. I’ve lost a lot of people in my life. We just lost Fíli and Kíli. I could have lost you to Azog. I won’t lose you to myself and my own… pigheadedness. What you did under the influence of the dragon sickness was out of your control, and you even broke yourself out of it. That counts for something. And no matter how big the crime, apologies mean something when you genuinely feel sorry for what you did, and mean nothing when you don’t. You _do_ feel sorry, and you’re trying to make it right, even though you don’t know how and don’t seem to think you even can. That all means something. Of course I forgive you.” Bilbo paused and searched Thorin’s face, but he looked mostly dumbfounded and still a little confused. With a laugh and a cheeky grin, Bilbo added, “Obviously, if you do it again I’ll castrate _and_ disembowel you with a rusty spoon.”

Thorin burst out laughing and pulled Bilbo back in for a tighter hug. “I wouldn’t blame you,” he said between his laughter.

They stayed embraced for a few peaceful, silent minutes before they realized they were probably hugging too long and awkwardly parted. Bilbo went back to his bag, and Thorin asked if he needed help. Bilbo politely declined. An awkward silence descended upon them for a few minutes before Thorin finally asked, “When are you leaving? Obviously soon.”

Avoiding eye contact, Bilbo nodded and said, “Tomorrow. Gandalf said he’d travel with me. The roads are dangerous for a tiny hobbit on his own.” He said the joke with a chuckle, but both that and the joke itself sounded awkward and forced.

“You don’t have to leave, you know,” Thorin said quietly, crossing his arms. “You could stay here if you wanted, help us rebuild Erebor.”

Bilbo sighed, not saying anything for a moment. He paused in his packing and stared at the bag as he said, “I have to. Bag End is the only thing I have left of my parents. I was entrusted with its care. If I don’t go back, I have no doubt my ‘family’ will try to repossess and auction off my belongings, assuming they haven’t already. They would probably claim I was dead, or assume so out of convenience. I can’t lose the last connection I have to my parents, as much as I’d love to stay and help rebuild your home.” As he said the last sentence, he looked up to Thorin, a lone tear streaking his face.

Thorin furrowed his brow, concerned and sympathetic, but not knowing how to express it properly. “I understand. You’ve already done enough, helping us reclaim Erebor in the first place. Rebuilding it wouldn’t have been possible without you.” Bilbo gave him a grateful and apologetic smile before resuming his packing. A silence stretched between them again, still awkward but much less this time. Unable to stand the silence, Thorin said, “These family members of yours don’t sound very pleasant.”

With a laugh, Bilbo said, “You don’t know the half of it.” For the next two hours or so, Bilbo regaled Thorin with stories of his outrageous extended family, especially Lobelia. He went into excruciating detail with any stories involving her. Thorin began liking these people less and less with each tale, to the point where he thought it impossible to dislike them any more and was continuously proven wrong with each subsequent story.

The next day, the time came for Bilbo to leave. The dwarves were sad to see him go, but they wished him the best and said he was welcome to come visit any time he wanted or needed. Bilbo thanked them for the offer and said he’d write to give notice first. After all, it was only polite. They laughed and said that wouldn’t be necessary, considering they all showed up completely unannounced at his home at the beginning of the journey. A few pointed looks were sent in Gandalf’s direction, but he pretended not to see them. Bilbo smiled and insisted that it was the polite thing to do before extending the same invitation to them should they ever find themselves passing by Bag End. More pointed looks were sent toward Gandalf at the word “polite” which were again ignored. When Bilbo noticed the looks, he chuckled and said, “Don’t bother knocking.” Everyone got a little laugh out of that.

Bilbo said goodbyes to each dwarf individually. Thorin was last, and when he finally got to him, Bilbo said, “Remember what I said. You are forgiven. Don’t torture yourself.”

Thorin chuckled and said, “Of course. I’ll be too worried about the other burglars in the Shire to even think about it.”

Laughing, Bilbo replied, “Yes, well, don’t worry too much. Any burglar worth his salt always knows when another is trying to steal his own plunders.”

They shared a warm smile and a forearm handshake. “Farewell, Master Burglar. Go back to your books… and your armchair.” He added the last bit with a chuckle. “Plant your trees, and watch them grow. If more people valued home above gold, this world would be a merrier place.”

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously this is just based on the movie, not the book. I have not yet had the chance to read it, but I'm pretty sure Thorin dies a different way in the book. But movie adaptations are basically their own stories anyway, so let's goooo!
> 
> In case you couldn't tell, this is just my version of how Thorin could have lived. (I like writing my theories/headcanons into fanfics because it helps me express/convey them better.) As much as I love Fíli and Kíli, there wasn't really much of a way to save them. Sorry. But if Thorin had made sure Azog was dead instead of staring at him like an Alzheimer's-afflicted fish out of water, he could have lived. Plain and simple. It was my first thought! That scene was genuinely frustrating. Like, dude. The average human brain can survive for three whole minutes without oxygen. Orcs are built hardier, so they can probably last longer. What the lemon, man? It wasn't that long! I'm not saying Thorin's an idiot and I'm smarter or better than him, but if he had done what I would have done, he'd still be alive. Just saying.
> 
> Anywho, please let me know of any errors. This is the opposite of the perspective and tense I usually write in, so I may have slipped up and wrote a little first person or present tense. Probably more likely the present tense. If you notice anything, please let me know so I can fix it. Same with any other mistakes. I tried to edit it, but I wouldn't be surprised if I missed something. Especially since I mostly just skimmed it because if I actually read it my perfectionism will likely kick in and I'll scrap the whole thing. So...
> 
> Speaking of errors, I have -50% social skills when compared to the average human, so I have no idea how to comfort someone grieving the loss of a loved one, nor do I have experience with it myself. I had to look up how to comfort a grieving friend and work from there. And I had to just assume how grieving people look/sound/act. Is it clear how clueless and socially inept I am in the fic? I hope I wrote that stuff well enough. Please let me know if I messed it up.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please let me know! If you didn't enjoy this, please let me know that too! I live for criticism. Either way, I HOPE you enjoyed it, and I hope you have a great morning/day/afternoon/evening/night. I have to post this before I chicken out and delete it. Stay safe, children! (Sorry for this borderline essay length note, goodness. I ramble A LOT.)


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